Kaja’s dagger was still lodged in his hamstring as he brought his sword up and shifted his shield to cover his torso. Leather face loaded another crossbow bolt into the stock of his weapon and aimed it at the lone survivor of the patrol but Conrad pointed his sword at him and shook his head. Leather face looked disappointed but obeyed the Sword Brother’s wish. The knight made a half-hearted lunge with his sword but his leg gave away and he collapsed onto one knee. Conrad ran forward and smashed his shield into the man’s sword and sword arm. The weapon fell from the knight’s hand and he fell on his side. Conrad placed a boot on his wounded leg and pressed down hard. The man winced through gritted teeth as the pain shot through his body.
Conrad stepped back and kicked the man’s sword away as the others closed on them, Andres holding the point of his sword in the scout’s back. Conrad took off his helmet and handed it to Kaja standing behind him.
‘He still has my dagger,
Susi
,’ she said.
Leather face howled with laughter.
‘And in a similar vein, can you dig my bolts out of those corpses, Brother Conrad.’
Anton and Hans smiled but Conrad ignored them. He looked at the patrol’s commander.
‘Get up.’
No one gave him any assistance as he used his shield as a crutch to raise himself from the ground, and then used it as a support once he had done so.
‘This is your lucky day,’ said Conrad. ‘I’m going to allow you to live, though you may bleed to death before you reach Reval. I suggest you use your belt to staunch the flow of blood.’
He slid his sword back in its scabbard.
‘I let you live because I want you to take a message back to Count Henry.’
The knight began to chuckle, revealing brown, uneven teeth.
‘The count returned to Germany in the autumn but he’ll be back in the spring, with more men. Then he will teach the Bishop of Riga and the Sword Brothers a lesson they won’t forget.’
Conrad struck him hard across the face with the back of a mail mitten, knocking him to the ground.
‘We will be waiting. In the meantime, relay this message to your Danish masters. Tell them that Estonia belongs to the Sword Brothers, no one else. Tell them that if they send soldiers beyond Reval’s ramparts they will be killed, just as these men have been killed here.’
The knight spat out a couple of teeth and a mouthful of blood. He ogled Kaja.
‘I will come back for you and stick some German meat in you, bitch.’
Conrad struck him again, harder this time, and once more stepped on his injured leg. The knight shouted out in pain as Conrad bent down and slowly pulled the dagger from his limb. Conrad wiped the blade on the injured man’s filthy red surcoat and handed it back to Kaja.
‘Come,’ said Conrad to the others, ‘let us warm ourselves by the fire.’
‘My fingers are nearly numb,’ complained leather face as he sat down on one of the woodpiles and held out his hands to the flames.
Hans tossed a couple of logs on the fire. ‘That’s because you are old and there is no meat on your bones.’
Andres prodded the scout, a fair-haired man in his mid-twenties, towards the fire.
‘What about this one?’
Conrad shrugged as the wounded German sat on the ground and removed his sword belt from around his waist and began binding his injured leg above the wound.
‘What about him?’
Riki stood in front of the man. Conrad thought they could have been brothers so similar did they appear with regards to eye and hair colour and complexion.
‘You are Harrien?’ asked Riki. The scout nodded.
‘And yet you work for the enemy?’
‘It’s a living,’ replied the Harrien indifferently.
In a blur Riki slashed his sword across the man’s throat. The Harrien’s blue eyes opened wide in stunned surprise as blood sheeted from the gash in his windpipe. He gurgled loudly before collapsing back towards Andres, who leapt out of the way.
‘Not any more,’ said Riki.
Conrad sat next to leather face who was flexing his fingers before the flames.
‘He was one of your people, Riki. Why did you kill him?’
‘What sort of man turns against his own?’ sneered the Estonian.
Leather face grinned. ‘He has obviously not visited Germany where every man is trying to slit the throat of his neighbour.’
The knight, who had managed to haul himself to his feet once more, began hobbling towards his horse. Anton walked over to the beast, took the lance that was resting against it and tossed it on the fire.
‘Just in case you get any ideas.’
The knight’s face was pale and beaded with sweat as he placed a foot in a stirrup and with difficulty pulled himself into the saddle.
‘Remember to relay my message to your superiors,’ Conrad called to him.
Now in great pain, he gingerly placed the foot of his injured leg in a stirrup and grabbed his horse’s reins. He turned his mount and nudged it forward towards one of the draught ponies that stood near the dead scout’s beast. He reached down and took the reins of one and then spurred his horse forward.
‘In the spring Count Henry and King Valdemar will return and the Sword Brothers will be destroyed.’
‘Talk is cheap,’ answered Conrad. I will add those two names to the long list of enemies that have tried and failed to destroy our order.’
The knight slumped in the saddle as he trotted through the snow out of the village.
‘Do you think he will live?’ said Anton.
‘I hope so,’ replied Conrad, ‘so he can convey my message.’
‘Why do you seek to antagonise your enemies,
Susi
?’ asked Kaja.
‘Because they are my enemies,’ said Conrad, ‘and I wish another opportunity to face Count Henry with a sword in my hand.’
Anton was not happy. ‘You should have killed him, Conrad. Lukas would not be happy that you had let an enemy live who you might face again in the spring.’
‘Do not worry, my friend,’ said Conrad. ‘In the spring all will be settled once and for all. We will free Estonia and drive the Danes and Count Henry into the sea.’
‘What about His Holiness?’ asked Anton. ‘According to Master Rudolf the Pope has awarded Estonia to King Valdemar.’
‘Who does His Holiness love more?’ posed Conrad. ‘King Valdemar or his own warriors? He will always take the side of the Sword Brothers against kings and princes, and counts for that matter. You think he wants to see Livonia and Estonia become a Danish province?’
‘Now that we have settled matters of grand strategy,’ said Hans, ‘how about getting something cooking? My belly thinks my throat has been slit.’
To His Holiness Pope Honorius III from Valdemar, King of Denmark, Lord of Ditmarschen, Holstein, Ratzeburg, Schwerin, Mecklenburg, Dannenberg, Rostok, Werle, Rügen and Pomerania, and ruler of all the territories north of the River Elbe and the River Elde.
‘
Holy Father, it grieves to have to convey to you the current sad state of affairs that currently exists in Livonia and Estonia. When the Bishop of Riga solicited my aid against the pagans in Estonia I gladly agreed to support his Holy Crusade. To that end I sailed with a great armada of ships and thousands of Christian soldiers to Estonia with a joyous heart.
‘
Your Holiness is already acquainted with my most glorious victory over the pagans where the Lord Himself sent a divine banner that gave me victory, and that is now carried at the head of my armies as proof that God has directed Denmark to be the instrument of His will.
‘
How sad it is, therefore, to report to you, Holy Father, that your Holy Crusade has been basely betrayed by the Bishop of Riga and the Sword Brothers. After I and my immediate subordinates suffered numerous insults and outrages at the hands of the former, the bishop agreed that his insolent order should be chastised and Estonia handed over to Danish rule, as agreed by Your Holiness. But the Bishop of Riga and the Sword Brothers basely assaulted my army before Reval, resulting in the deaths of hundreds of Christian warriors. I barely escaped with my own life.
‘
Chief among the knaves that have poisoned the mind of the Bishop of Riga against me is one Conrad Wolff, a Sword Brother and self-styled Marshal of Estonia, who treacherously wounded my loyal servant, Henry Count of Schwerin.
‘
Having suffered all these outrages I have been forced to impose a naval blockade on Livonia, to starve it of trade and crusaders until the Bishop of Riga recognises the error of his ways and gives up the most nefarious among his Sword Brothers so they may face justice. As a Christian sovereign appointed by God you will know that I have no choice in this matter.
‘
Given this fifteenth day of February in the year of our Lord one thousand, two hundred and twenty-one and the fifth year of your pontificate.’